Wounded
by Katie Dazuru
Summary: A somewhat Human AU - Oneshot. A surprise attack by the Decepticons leaves many Autobots wounded. But to some, specific people are more important than others. PxJ, rated K Plus due to some minor violence.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.**

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The pain, to him, was unbearably agonising.

One moment he had been sitting at his desk, browsing all the work that he had yet to do, and then the next he was slammed up against the wall – and he saw a bright flash before pain overwhelmed his senses.

The only thing he wondered was who had done this to him. As soon as it had happened, he was able to see again – but he found he was alone. He slide down the wall, leaving a bloody red trail in his wake. He suddenly found that he was freezing in the room and shivered unconsciously, though still fully aware that he was bleeding profusely from his chest.

The door to the office slid open with a hiss, and someone stumbled in. He gazed at them, eyes flickering as the life slowly drained from his body. He recognised them to be a friend of his, due to their appearance and the red insignia that was printed on the sleeve of their coal black jacket. Their hair was as white as snow, apart from his fringe which was a bright crimson, and their eyes were an icy blue. He was dressed in what appeared to be a police uniform, and was also quite injured (not as injured as him, though).

He couldn't really remember their name, he realised as they rushed to his side – asking questions so quickly that he couldn't understand them. They ran a hand through his hair as the other hand pressed on his wound. He cried out in pain as more blood flowed out, and couldn't stop the tears that ran down his cheeks.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted into the air and felt a breeze passing through his hair. He could tell that the other was now running – most likely carrying him to the medbay to have his wound treated. Though, he had a feeling in his gut that he wasn't going to live through this attack. By the time he was in the medbay, he would most likely be almost dead due to blood-loss.

There was another hiss and he was carried into the blinding bright light of the medbay. He heard a faint exclamation before he was set onto a berth, and his gaze went immediately to the man who had carried him there. There was a small voice in the back of his head, and he remembered the name of the man in front of him.

_Prowl_.

The pain came back with a larger force as the medic rested a hand on his shoulder. His gaze reluctantly turned to the medic, and he also recognised them to be the CMO – Ratchet. He saw a glint before he felt the sensation of being stabbed in his arm. Then everything went black.

He didn't know how long he was out for, but everything was still fuzzy and dark when he woke. He saw a silhouette sitting next to him, and tried to sit up. There was a stinging sensation in his chest and he hissed in pain. The silhouette, who he recognised to be Prowl, stirred, and his eyes opened.

The Praxian quickly rested a hand on his shoulder, and pushed him back down gently. He smiled softly at him.

"How do you feel?" Prowl asked.

He smiled weakly. "I've…been better."

The Praxian chuckled quietly. "Of course you'd live through a shot to the chest."

He sighed back in reply before staring at the ceiling. "Do you know what happened?"

Prowl continued to stare at him. "The Decepticons plotted a surprise attack, and long story short – it was almost successful."

He glanced back at the Praxian. "…Almost?"

"Red Alert managed to find them before the battle began," Prowl explained, his voice suddenly going quiet. "But we weren't able to inform everyone in time."

He grinned lopsidedly, before frowning. "Did they…?"

Prowl shook his head. "No one is damaged beyond repair. You were probably the most severe."

"With a close-range shot to the chest?" he raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to think so."

Prowl chuckled quietly, but there was a look of worry and uncertainty on his face. He figured that the sudden attack had probably affected the Praxian as much as everyone else.

"What's eating you?" he broke the silence.

"When I saw you against the wall, bleeding, I just…" Prowl trailed off, glancing away.

He attempted to sit up again, and found it was less painful this time. He shuffled backwards and leant his back against the wall, staring straight at the Praxian as the other tried to recompose himself.

"…I just felt that you could suddenly just…_die_," Prowl continued. "The thought never crossed my mind, and the sudden possibility that I could just _lose_ you…"

He frowned as the Praxian stared at the floor. He could almost literally feel the depression radiating off the other man. Had his near-death actually affected Prowl so much?

"Hey," he leant forward and rested a hand on the Praxian's arm, making him look up. "I'm alright, aren't I? Stop worrying about it!"

Prowl stared at him blankly before laughing. "You have the strangest ways of cheering people up, Jazz."

Jazz only grinned in response. "I do, don't I?"

Prowl only shook his head. "Primus, I love you."

The Polyhexian only continued to smile. "Love you too, Prowler."

"It's _Prowl_, Jazz."

"I know."


End file.
